tara-58 reblogged

The Berserker - Part 12

Part 12.

The cottage was softly bathed in gently candlelight. The fire crackled quietly. The world itself seemingly hushed, leaning in to listen to every word spoken inside.

Claire and Jamie stood facing each other, wrist to bloodied wrist, a soft cloth wrapped delicately around their tightly joined hands. Murtagh wiped the small dagger he’d used to slice open neat lines on the inside of the wrists.

An ancient rite. And a handfasting. A joining together Claire knew would be more powerful than anything she’d ever felt in her life. She felt it burrow beneath her skin, coalesce into her blood. They said the words together, Murtagh bearing witness to the coming together of two souls.

“You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone.

I give you my body, that we two might be one.

I give you my spirit, till our life shall be done.”

Quiet vows and whispered promises that changed the very marrow in their bones.

There was no fanfare, no lavish feast, no day long celebration. None of it needed or wanted. There was just them exchanging their hearts into the safekeeping of the other’s.

Once finished, Murtagh gave a quick, gruff but surprisingly heartfelt toast. “I’m not a man of very many words,” he began shakily, meeting neither in the eye, “but I ken what true love looks like. I have only ever seen it once before. With your parents, Jamie. And I consider it an honor to be able to witness their lad find it for himself. Ye both deserve to be happy and I vow to ye now Claire, just as I swore it to Jamie’s mother I’d watch over the lad before I left,” he put his ale down and took her hands in his, squeezing gently, “I vow to protect you the rest of my life.” But, just as suddenly as his spurt of sentimentality had come, he cleared his throat, shuffled his feet and it was gone as he not so subtly made himself scarce.

The sudden empty space created by Murtagh’s departure filled with a charged silence. It seemed ridiculous after sharing a bed, a body to be struck with shyness around one another.

Claire huffed a laugh and stepped closer to him. Taking the alehorn he’d been holding, she took a sip before putting it down on the table. Then slowly, took hold of his coat’s lapels and pulled him down for a kiss. He smiled against her lips.

“Will it scar, do you think?” Claire asked, gazing down at her now bound wrist.

“Murtagh didna cut too deep,” Jamie said peering down at his own wrist. “I think it will fade after a time.”

She frowned, considering. “I was hoping it would scar permanently,” she mused, peering beneath the cloth.

“Were you now?” Jamie smiled, taking her by the waist and bringing her body flush with his.

“Yes. Something that would endure. Something that told the world you belong to only me. And I you.”

He kissed her brow, his lips lingering. “We will always be that, Sassenach.”

“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. She looked him dead in the eye then, her stare unwavering. “Jamie, I want you to mark me.”

“What?” he asked, startled by the shift in her.

She pulled out of his arms, and went to the chest by their bed and pulled out a small dagger. “Cut me,” she said quietly. “Deep enough to leave a scar. I want take your touch with me, to have something of you that will stay with me always.” She saw hesitance flash across his face. “I don’t care if it hurts,” she continued, tipping her head to her wrist, “at least when I see it, touch it, wherever I am, I can feel your touch on me.”

He didn’t need to ask if she was sure, he could see it all too clearly on her face. He took her delicate hand in his, his thumb stroking her palm. After a moment, he squeezed her hand and nodded. He brought her palm to his lips and kissed it gently then, examining it carefully, he took the base of her thumb in a hard, sucking bite. Letting go, he swiftly cut into the now numbed flesh. She felt no more than a slight burning sensation as the blood immediately welled up. Jamie brought her palm to his mouth once more and held it there till the flow of blood slowed and stopped. As he wrapped her hand in a fresh piece of cloth, Claire glimpsed the shape he’d deftly etched into her. The rune for ‘J’.

It took her moment to realize he’d silently held out his hand for her to do the same. Claire read the intensity in his gaze and took his hand and dagger, her eyes never leaving his. A log in the fireplace cracked and sent up crackling sparks, like a burst of starlight as Claire swiftly but deeply etched the rune for ‘C’ into the base of his thumb. He didn’t wait for her to bind his thumb before he stripped the cloth off hers and brought their palms flush together.

“Whatever troubles happen around us, Claire” he promised, “this, what it is between us, never changes.”

Claire cupped the back of his neck with her free hand and bought his mouth to hers, walking back towards the bed as she did. But before the heat between them threatened to undo her completely, she sat him down on the edge of the bed and went for her medicine box. She cleaned and binded their wedding markings. Markings that sealed their belonging to each other. Till our life shall be done, they’d promised.

“Longer than that,” Jamie said, seeing the words lingering in her eyes.

They took each other then. It wasn’t frenzied, but neither was it gentle. They took each other - knife to its scabbard - moving hard, a need beyond mere wanting, bringing each other to the peaks of sensation and undoing again and again, to the edge of release. Till finally the shuddering denial became unbearable, Claire tightened her legs around his hips, urging him deeper, forcing him to let go. He echoed her shattered scream as they both fell over the edge of oblivion.

***

“You and Murtagh will wait for me on Kattegat’s southern border, by the coast,” Jamie was saying as they huddled over a crude map he’d drawn on the ground. He’d tasked them with aquiring a sturdy skiff that could quickly take them down the coast to Ribe. It was the fastest way he could think to get them swiftly away once he found a way to get Lamb out. “Keep to the bluffs for cover,” he said to Murtagh using a twig to mark the area on the map, “ye ken where. I will find you.”

“Aye,” Murtagh replied, studying the map.

With the Gathering only meant to last three days, Jamie’s window of opportunity was a tight one. Everything had to go according to plan - he had little chance of convincing either uncle to end hostilities, but his focus wasn’t on his uncles anymore and he prayed it would be enough. He couldn’t yet let himself think about what escape meant. About the chance of seeing home and family once more. With a wife no less. He couldn’t yet let himself hope.

“May the weather stay in our favor,” Jamie said, looking to the cold but clear heavens through the forest canopy.

Still looking at the map, Claire took his hand and squeezed. “May luck be on yours,” she simply said.

***

They departed the next morning - Jamie for Dufgall’s camp, Claire and Murtagh for Kattegat - Claire adamant no goodbyes were exchanged. Jamie had nonetheless taken his time kissing her - as he had taken his time the night before as they tangled around each other in bed - before they left.

Claire could not quite wrap her mind around how much had changed since that fateful dawn Jamie had come into her life. Her Berserker, her husband, her best friend. His steps did not falter as he headed - yet again - into a unknown situation.

And here she was, with her tightly braided hair, her shield strapped to her back over her fur cloak, short sword and dagger on the belt of her breeks. Her dark, supple leather tunic keeping the chill of weather and fear at bay. Both her and Murtagh carrying large leather packs ladened with supplies. Would Lamb even recognize her now?

Kattegat was a hive of activity when Claire and Murtagh arrived. Claire kept the hood of her cloak up even as she and Murtagh blended into throngs of people that had accompanied their lesser Earls for the Gathering.

“How are we going to steal a boat with all these eyes around?” Claire whispered to Murtagh as he led them through the crowds.

“Steal?” Murtagh said incredulous, coming to a stop. “We arena stealing a thing! There is a reason I took work with the boat builders, lass. I’ve been preparing for this day since the moment I arrived here. So, nay, we arena stealing.”

Claire smiled at his prim tone. “So what are we doing, then?”

“There’s a man that owes me a favor. I mean to collect.”

***

Kalman’s hold was much like Jamie remembered it. The doors opened to as grand a hall as there was, the large, rectangular fire pit in its centre splitting the walkway down the middle, deterring any enemy forces from flooding in and attacking. The two aisles were lined with Kalman’s men, leaving little room for a brawl - forcing all those that entered to split their forces. Kalman himself sat on his raised throne at the far end of the hall, flanked by his loyal bannermen and kin, watching as his brother’s contingent slowly filed in, Jamie at Dufgall’s shoulder.

Jamie’s eyes immediately began scanning the room. Not for any potential enemies, but for Lamb.

“Welcome home, brother,” Kalman’s cold voice boomed, pulling Jamie’s focus. “Nephew,” he added, inclining his head towards Jamie, who in turn bowed his head and subtly resumed his search.

Dufgall watched his brother carefully, but said nothing. The tension in the room was palpable and Jamie could feel no peace would be found here today.

Kalman knew it too, for he said, “Eat, rest. Tomorrow we talk terms,” just as Jamie’s gaze found a man standing half hidden behind Kalman, near a door to an adjoining room. His eyes warily apprehensive as he watched they simmering volatility. Jamie knew immediately. Saw Claire in his whisky eyes. He was exactly how Claire had described him, if a little rougher around the edges - the full beard unkempt, his skin sallow and shoulders turned inward.

Tentatively, carefully, Dufgall’s contingent broke apart and mixed into the crowd, quiet chatter began to fill the silence. Jamie slowly wove through the crowds. First getting myself a horn of ale before making his approach to Lamb. He knew eyes were upon him as much as they were on Dufgall, he’d need to be careful. Lamb made his way to the spit of meat roasting over the fire pit, Jamie trailing behind.

Without looking at the old man, Jamie said into his cup only loud enough for him to hear, “Lamb Beauchamp,” in his own tongue. “Don’t… react,” Jamie hissed as the man violently started. “Keep your eyes on the meat. I’m here to get you out. Claire-”

“She is alive?!” Lamb urgently interrupted. “She is alright?”

“She is whole. She lives and she misses you desperately,” Jamie reassured him and saw the tension drain from Lamb’s shoulders.

“Thank god,” the old man breathed, and Jamie was worried his knees would altogether buckle beneath him. “I did not know. We heard of the raid, but… I did not know all this time what had befallen her.”

Jamie grabbed a slice of meat and chewed slowly as a group of men went by, Lamb following suit.

“I will tell you all you wish to know, but we will have to be careful. I am here to bring you back to her,” Jamie said.

“How do I know I can trust you,” Lamb asked warily, giving Jamie a harsh sidelong stare, taking in his size, scruff and aloof demeanor he always adopted when around his uncles’ men.

“Because,” Jamie said, slipping a hand into his pocket, coming away with a small object and slipping it into Lamb’s hand. “She asked me to give you this.”

Lamb stared down at the chipped arrowhead, his eyes brimming with tears.

Claire had given it to Jamie the last night they spent together. She’d fished it out from the bottom of her medicine box. A token and talisman she’d carried with her wherever she went, she’d said.

“I can not believe she kept this… “ Lamb said quietly, wiping his eyes and running a thumb over the smooth surface. “It was the first bit of history she ever uncovered with me, when we first began our journey north.”

Jamie couldn’t resist briefly clapping a hand to Lamb’s shoulder.

“Stay alert and ready,” Jamie said, moving away from him. He’d lingered too long already. “I’ll find you again when I can.”

Lamb gave an infinitesimal nod in answer before meandering through the crowd, the arrowhead tightly clenched in his palm.

Jamie found a spot in a dark corner and leaned against the wall, sipping his ale. His mind and heart racing as he watched the men around him begin to loosen with drink. He’d found Lamb. All he needed now was a way out.

***

#outlander fic #The Berserker #Part 12 #Vikings AU #Claire and Jamie

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